Veiled Intentions (16 page)

When she begged him for more, he gave it to her. He went higher still and found a responsive, sensitive spot that made her shudder.

She insisted on more.

He gave it to her.

No longer wary of her response, he pinned her hands to the bed and was pleased when she jerked and twisted beneath him. Not to get away. No, the throaty moan, the half smile, the scorching look in
her eyes was the best
welcome home, Joe
he could have ever gotten.

Her legs tightened around him. They matched each other. Move for move. Frantic stroke for frantic stroke. Until the pressure built to an unbearable level. And yet they continued. Somehow. Trying to hang on to every second, every sensation.

They climbed, together.

Drawing on each other.

Feeding each other.

Pleasuring each other.

To get to the only place they wanted to go.

She came in a flash, whispering his name in rhythm to the shudders that ravaged through her. He heard her murmurs over his own heartbeat, over his heavy breath. Over hers. It was her surrender. A sweet, sensual, complete surrender.

Joe buried his face against her neck and surrendered right along with her.

Naked, Joe eased out of the bed. The room was dark. Pitch black, actually. He'd been so wrapped up in Katelyn that he hadn't even noticed that the sun had set.

She stirred, reaching for him, but he kissed her hand and placed it gently on the pillow. She went back to sleep almost immediately.

He pulled on his pants. Grabbed his cell phone, and went into the living room, shutting the door between Katelyn and him. The A/C was on full-blast and he hoped the hum of the cool air seeping through the vents would create enough white noise that his conversation wouldn't wake her.

This wasn't something he especially wanted her to hear.

After he turned on the lamp, Joe took out his wallet and located the private number for Chief Ryland. It was on a business card tucked behind the only photo he carried. A posed family shot with his parents, his
brothers and him. One taken years ago, when his father and he had still been on speaking terms.

He pushed that particular reminder aside, laid his wallet on the end table and pressed in the numbers. Ryland answered the phone.

“Two things,” Joe started after they got past the hellos. He sat down even though he figured this might not be an especially long conversation. “There's not even a hint of impropriety or favoritism on Brayden O'Malley's part. He runs a clean department, and I don't want to be part of any witch hunt designed to bring him down.”

The chief paused, made a sound to indicate he was thinking about that. “Mind sharing with me how you arrived at this conclusion?”

“I asked questions. A lot of them. In fact, I spent most of Monday and Tuesday doing just that. And I've watched how the man operates. Brayden doesn't need to rely on favoritism and impropriety. He gets the job done the old-fashioned way, through hard work and dedication. You're lucky to have him on your team.”

“Pretty frank talk,” Ryland grumbled.

“You mean frank talk for a man who's on the brink of a potential promotion?” Joe didn't wait for Ryland to confirm it. “And that brings me to the second thing I want to discuss. After this case, I'll need to be moved from Homicide.”

“Say what? I don't think I heard you right, Rico. You want to be moved from a department you fought for months to get into?” Another of those sounds of
contemplation. “Does this have anything to do with Katelyn O'Malley?”

“It does,” Joe admitted. “I'm personally involved with her, and that means we shouldn't be working together.”

“Well, yeah, it happens. Personal involvement, I mean. Work hard, play hard, and all that other crap we do to get us through the night. But that doesn't mean you have to leave Homicide. I can have her moved instead.”

“No,” Joe quickly answered. “She stays in Homicide. I'm the one requesting the transfer.”

“No?” Ryland repeated. “I swear I didn't see anything in your records to indicate you'd let yourself be ruled by
playing hard.
You've been like a bulldozer, Rico, pushing and shoving your way to the top.”

“Well, things change.” For the first time in his career, there was something more important than the bulldozing, the pushing and the shoving. More important even than his badge.

Katelyn.

Now he had to do everything in his power to prevent her from being killed.

Ryland made Joe wait several seconds before he delivered his verdict. But the verdict wasn't exactly conclusive. “I'll get back to you on these
two things
you just dumped in my lap,” Ryland finally snarled. “In the meantime, you and Katelyn O'Malley need to collar this scumhead Veiled Sniper and get the press and the whiny watchdog groups off my back.”

“We're doing our best.”

“Yeah, well, do better.” And with the gruff farewell, the chief hung up.

Joe punched the end call button with his thumb and put the phone on the end table next to him.

“Thin walls,” he heard Katelyn say. He also heard the mattress springs groan when she got off the bed. She appeared in the doorway wearing only her panties, slipping on a shirt. His shirt. “Are you sorry you just made that call?”

“No.” Joe didn't even have to think about it.

The call was a necessity. But he gave some thought to her. Her hair was all messed up, in a very sexy sort of way with loose, damp strands framing her face.

And then there was her mouth.

Man, her mouth always sucker punched him. Her lips were still swollen from the torrid war they'd waged with his mouth.

“Any idea what you look like standing there?” he asked.

She glanced down at her seminaked torso and smiled. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Maybe. But if so, your distraction's a heck of a lot better than mine.”

“Is that right?” Still smiling, she crossed the room. Instead of climbing onto his lap—something he was fantasizing about—Katelyn pulled the sides of the shirt over her naked breasts and dropped down on the sofa next to him. She linked her fingers with his, brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

“This morning I asked Brayden to transfer me to another department,” she said with her mouth still
against his skin. “With the latest round of retirements, I could move to Special Investigations or Vice—”

“No. That's not fair to you. I'm the newcomer. You earned your spot in Homicide.”

She climbed onto his lap. Maybe it was to distract him so he couldn't win this argument. He tried not to let her succeed. His resolve faltered a little when her silky leg brushed against his arm as she straddled him. However, instead of doing anything sexual, she kissed his cheek. It was almost chaste.

Almost.

“We are so pathetic.” She chuckled. “Brayden and Garrett would have so much fun if they could see this. You and me arguing with each because we're both putting the other first. It's one for the record, Joe.”

Because it was peeking out at him, he gave her right nipple a gentle pinch. “Frankly, I'm glad they aren't here to see this. Having an audience would spoil the moment. And they'd probably try to beat me senseless.”

She shook her head, and the swish of movement exposed her other breast. No pinch this time. But he leaned forward and nipped the tight bud with his teeth.

Katelyn sucked in her breath, gave his already hardening erection a little nudge, but she stopped him from closing his mouth around her nipple.

“Seriously,” she said, pressing her fingers over his lips. “My brothers respect you. And they like you,
despite all that posturing and bravado.” She reached over and picked up the photo that he'd left on the end table.

“What about them?” she asked.

“I don't think they like me.” Normally, this would have been the point in the conversation where Joe clammed up, but there was nothing normal about anything anymore. “My mother died six weeks ago. A drunk driver broadsided her on the way to mass one Sunday morning.”

“Oh. I'm so sorry, Joe.” It wasn't just lip service, either. Katelyn gathered him in her arms, held him and brushed another kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, he saw that her eyes were misty with tears.

He almost shrugged, but decided the tough-guy facade wasn't necessary. “I didn't get to make my peace with her before she died.”

She nodded. “That explains the personal leave you took right before your transfer. I read your file,” Katelyn admitted.

Yes. He remembered.

She probably could have offered a sincere condolence or insisted that his dream of being a cop wasn't something for which he should have to make peace. But she didn't. Katelyn sat there and held him.

They stayed that way, wrapped around each other for heaven knows how long. Long enough for Joe to realize that walking away from Katelyn O'Malley wouldn't be just hard.

It would be impossible.

 

A
S INCREDIBLE
as Joe's arms were, one glance at the clock, and Katelyn knew it was time to get to work. She lifted her head from his shoulder, kissed him—for slightly longer than she'd planned—and eased off his lap.

“I need to try on the dress,” she let him know. “I have to figure out where I can put my weapon.”

Groaning as he got to his feet, he followed her into the bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching her. “You said the bouquet was too small to use for cover?”

“Yes.” She pointed to the small silk floral arrangement that had been stuffed into the box with the dress. “Baby's breath and miniature pink rosebuds just aren't very effective for hiding Glocks. Go figure.”

She put on her bra and long slip first, and then, as if bracing herself for a flu shot, Katelyn grabbed the dress. She eased it on over her head.

The silk whispered over her skin.

A seriously nice sensation she tried to ignore.

“I'll need you to do the buttons,” she said, ignoring the mirror, as well. She hitched her thumb to the back of the dress and stepped into the satiny pair of off-white shoes. Heels. Uncomfortable ones that pinched her toes. But they put the finishing touches on the costume.

Joe moved behind her. And then he moved her. He positioned her directly in front of the mirror affixed to the outside of the bathroom door. A wide, full-length mirror.

The very one she'd been trying to avoid.

“We're going to look like those plastic figures that go on top of wedding cakes,” she complained as he fastened the buttons.

Not exactly true. The dress was real. Joe was real. And what she felt for him was as real as it got. Still, she'd keep that to herself. With the mission all but closing in around them, this wasn't the time to pour out her heart.

He reached in the closet, extracted his tux shirt and jacket and put them on. Since he was already wearing black pants, the only thing missing was the tie. In true badass form, he threaded it around his collar and left it loose so it dangled against the front of his shirt.

Oh, mercy.

Talk about a surefire way to lose her breath. He simply took it away.

He brushed a kiss on her neck, met her gaze in the mirror, and smiled.

To give her hands something to do, she snatched up the bouquet and the Glock. Somehow, even the sinister-looking gun couldn't kill the moment.

But the doorbell did.

Katelyn groaned when she heard the incredibly annoying sound. Joe went one step better and cursed.

“Just a minute,” she called out to the visitor.

She tossed the bouquet on the bed and checked the time again. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. Not good. It was probably Garrett or Brayden, which meant something had gone wrong.

And that put her on immediate alert.

It obviously did the same for Joe. He hurriedly put on his shoes and grabbed his weapon.

The bell rang again. Not a quick jab of sound this time, but a long wail of noise, as if somebody was leaning on the darn thing. When the noise finally stopped, Katelyn heard a barely audible groan.

“Who is it?” she asked.

The person answered, something weak and muffled. It was a man, and the image of her brothers, wounded, flew through her head. She turned to run toward the door, but Joe grabbed her arm.

The feeling of panic and dread was so strong, so overwhelming, that Katelyn nearly pushed him away so she could make sure neither Garrett nor Brayden were hurt.

“Don't do it. It could be a trap,” Joe reminded her.

He was right, of course. After all, they were deep in an undercover murder investigation, and someone had already tried to kill them. It was procedure to stay back, to make sure they wouldn't be facing a gun when they opened that door. Still, she had to battle everything inside her to keep from throwing open the door.

And more—she had to trust that Joe was doing the right thing.

“Stay behind me,” Joe instructed. He aimed his gun and while staying low, he went into the living room. He reached over and turned off the lamp.

“Please help me,” the voice said from outside the door.

She listened for anything recognizable about it, but again it was hardly more than a murmur of pain. If it were a trap, if the person was faking, he was doing an incredibly convincing job. Her heart was racing. Her breath was in her throat. And that buzz was there. That awful buzz in her head that told her all was far from being well.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and soon the illumination from the stove panel allowed her to see the two windows that flanked the door. Not clearly, but at least she could maneuver around and not bump into anything.

Moving slowly, Joe inched away from the lamp toward the window that was closest to him. Katelyn followed. Not easily though. The dress wasn't exactly meant for skulking about, but there was no way she could take the time to undo all those buttons and change into something more maneuverable.

Joe didn't step in front of the window but instead crouched even lower and lifted the blinds just a fraction.

“The security lights in the parking lot are out,” he whispered.

Okay. That didn't help. Since they'd been working fine the night before, she had to assume that someone had tampered with them.

“Who's out there?” Joe yelled. He immediately shifted his position so that if it was indeed a trap, the person wouldn't be able to pinpoint his position.

The only response they got was another of those painful groans.

Mercy. She prayed it wasn't one of her brothers.

“Call for backup,” Joe said. “But tell them not to approach the building, to stay back and await orders.” He tossed her his cell phone.

Katelyn snatched it from the air, flipped it open and would have pressed in the numbers for headquarters if something hadn't distracted her.

Something seeping from beneath the door onto the tiny patch of cream-colored tile.

It was blood.

And lots of it.